


Target Acquired

by lmirandas



Series: Casualties [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Covert Plans, Greg to the rescue, Grief, M/M, Merlin is the eldest Holmes sibling, Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade friendship, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a good brother, Sherlock's shenanigans, Sneaky Sherlock, Widower Mycroft, pre-Mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmirandas/pseuds/lmirandas
Summary: Sherlock keeps getting into trouble, Greg is called to rein the consulting detective in. Lucky he gets some help, from more than one Holmes sibling.





	Target Acquired

**Author's Note:**

> Not read by my beta, not brit picked, basically is a thing that will not leave me in peace until I finally write the whole series.

Greg Lestrade sighed, looking up at the sky, asking to any and whatever deity to give him some patience. Sherlock Holmes, his constant pain in the arse, sporting a bloody nose and a glare that could even make big brother Mycroft proud. Standing next to him, a young gentleman wearing a bespoke suit in a ridiculous colour, glasses with one lens broken, and who also had a swollen eye that looked like it would turn into a black one soon. The eye that remained open was blue, and if looks could kill, both him and Sherlock would be dead and buried by then. Maybe his division would mourn him. The deity knew this lonely DI had few people in his personal life, less even since his divorce, it seemed his ex-wife got all the friends with the decree absolute. His life now revolved around work, a certain consulting detective, his trigger-happy partner and the mysterious and handsome older brother, who, with some luck, might come collect his nuisance of a sibling.

"Now, any one of you care to make a statement?"

Sherlock seemed reluctant to talk, Greg seemed to have in his hands a morose, sullen and insulted detective. The other man huffed, and in a Cockney accent that didn't match his choice of wardrobe, he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'was supposed to be a doodle'.

"Sorry, care to speak a little louder? I'm an old man; I need you to use your big boy words this time."  
"Piss off."  
"See? That wasn't so hard. Now, I will ignore that, because you don't want to add insult to a police officer on top of assault."

At this, the young man let his jaw drop, looking at Sherlock, who was giving him a very smug grin.

"Although, it seemed you got a shiner from that. Who knows? Maybe it was self-defence. No one can press charges until we get a statement from either one of you."  
"Gavin, this miscreant was following me, and when confronted with the evidence refused to explain his motivations. The argument got heated, and he resolved to utilise fisticuffs as a manner to solve it. Clearly, I also had the advantage there."  
"Say that to your bloody nose, creep."

Greg, with hindsight that even the deity would envy, grabbed Sherlock by the coat, stopping him from jumping the boy again. The boy had his guard up too, and Lestrade could see this one fought dirty.

"Now, each one of you to a corner, want me to change your nappies too? Bloody kids."

A clearing of a throat, and a shadow right beside him, Greg turned and greeted Mycroft Holmes with a cheerful grin.

"Mycroft, fancy seeing you here. Came to get some entertainment? Amateur fighting on the streets these days, it seems. Want to put a bet in? Some of us are thinking about a comfortable retirement."  
"Detective Inspector Lestrade, how droll of you. May I interest you in some other entertainment? I will, of course, take care of your little problem first. Brother. Gary."  
"Hullo, Mycroft. "  
"Ugh, is this lowlife one of your minions? Do you hire them brutish and stupid now? This one broke my nose."  
"No, Sherlock, Dr Watson broke your nose when you came back from the dead. You barely have a scratch. And to answer your question, no..."

Before Mycroft could finish, a man in a thick Scottish accent interrupted, apparently this man had no idea of who he was inconveniencing, woe to any man who ever bothered the high and mighty Mycroft Holmes, at least that is how Greg usually thought about it.

"No, Sherlock, he is one of mine. Good evening, brothers. Eggsy."  
"Merlin, this was supposed to be easy! The man gave me a bloody punch!"  
"Be quiet. I'm not done with you yet. Detective Inspector, we are sorry if this one caused you any trouble. He is a tailor's apprentice at my shop, and it seemed he botched the delivery of a present for my little brother."  
"Brother? Wait, what? Who are you?"  
"This, Lestrade, is my eldest brother, who as you can see is as much help as Mycroft. Now he seems to think that sending his goons to harass me constitutes a present."  
"I will refrain then of ever sending you a present again. Pity, with your love of bespoke clothing and your refusal to get an actual job your wallet is going to suffer, little one."  
"Wait, so you are a Holmes too? The eldest Holmes is a tailor?"  
"The best of Saville Row if I have to say. He is Mummy's pride and joy. It doesn't hurt that he is the one that takes after my Father in temperament and what is better to tell your friends from the bridge club, my son is a tailor, my son is a politician, or my son invented his job title? You see what we have to contend with? Hamish, do take Gary and run along. Those suits won't keep making themselves. Can you book me in for a fitting later tomorrow?"  
"I will have to check the appointment book. A pleasure to meet you Detective Inspector. You must be a saint to deal with both my siblings on a regular basis. Sherlock, give my best to John. I will expect some grovelling if you ever want to see the inside of my shop again."  
"Merlin, don't ever send riff-raff like this after me again. Give my best to Roxanne."  
"Noted. And I thought you both would make the best of friends. Wouldn't be the first time I'm wrong. Oh, wait, probably yes, it would be the first time, so I'm giving you both the benefit of the doubt. Expect to see Eggsy in the future, brother."

Sherlock groaned loudly, resigned as his brother turned around and left with his charge. Greg was indeed amused, but there were many things he wanted to ask Mycroft without Sherlock's input. A disgruntled consulting detective needed soothing. As usual, Mycroft seemed to think in his same frequency, and after minimal eye contact, he addressed his brother dismissively.

"Run along to Baker Street, Sherlock. It looks like your dear doctor just left the clinic."  
"Stop spying on John."  
"I was merely stating that in your current frame of mind the support of a caring and loving partner would be ideal, true, in your case, you have Doctor Watson instead."  
"Do not disparage John's abilities for care. Your current lack of any romance whatsoever is not our fault."  
"As pleasant as usual, brother. Detective Inspector, care to join me for some lunch? I feel the need to compensate you for wasting your time in an incident such as this."  
"Only if you eat something this time. Lead the way."

They turned around, leaving an open-mouthed consulting detective to find his way back to Baker Street. Let him sulk and complain to John; he at least got sex out of it. Not that Greg would ever go there. Fishing someone out of the Thames while covered in trash, debris and high as a kite would put you off for good if you had any proper sense in you. They strolled to a small cafe close by and Greg nagged Mycroft until he ordered some tea and a salad while he got a sandwich for himself. He loved spending time with Mycroft, his dry wit and sarcasm matching perfectly with his gallows humour, and the man wasn't hard on the eyes, he had to admit the fact even if it was just to himself. Today, Mycroft seemed gloomier, more aloof than usual when dealing with Greg. _This is it. This is the moment he gets tired of me. It's not like he has a lot in common with a copper like me. So posh, so refined._ It threw Greg entirely out of his musings when instead of his expected rebuttal Mycroft quietly sighed before asking him,

"Does it get any better?"  
"I'm sorry, you lost me there, what 'gets any better'?"

Then Mycroft eyed the area over the ring finger on his left hand, and suddenly the DI understood. Mycroft was asking him, _him_ , if getting over a divorce gets any better, or maybe if being lonely does? It seemed his brother comment had affected the man more than he had let it show. He noticed that the ring that was usually in the other man's hand, which he would never have associated with a relationship, was also missing. His skin was so pale that there was a not a mark left like in Greg's case when he removed it, though it was long gone by now. He couldn't remember if the last time he saw Mycroft, he was wearing it or not. Praying that he was getting the meaning right, Greg stumbled into an answer,

"It does. Eventually. In my case, it helped that there was not any love lost there anymore. In the end, the whole thing was a sham. She was cheating, I was aware of it, and the marriage was a farce."  
"It seems we were on a similar boat, even though my former partner denied that he was cheating on technicalities. We were about to divorce, but he passed away."  
"I'm sorry, I didn't even know you had a partner. Thank you for trusting me with the information. And I see how, even though things were over for you two, with a dead spouse things can be somewhat harder to move on from. Especially since you seem to carry some guilt over it."  
"How observant of you, Detective Inspector. And yes, there is guilt involved, that maybe if I had done things differently, he would still be alive and well."  
"Don't mean to pry but..."  
"I'm afraid it's classified."  
"Okay. Fair enough. Not an illness then, but something active, like duty. But still, everyone makes choices. I don't see you with a subordinate as a partner. So I assume that he made his own choice. Unless you gave him an order to march to his death, I don't know why you would feel guilty. I know you have resources that I can't even dream about, but I'm convinced that if you could have stepped in and prevented the outcome, you would have done it."  
"You give me too much credit, Detective Inspector."  
"It's Greg, Mycroft. Especially if we are talking relationships now."  
"I'm sorry, Gregory. Social situations in which there is not a hidden agenda are not my forte. I've come to treasure our little _tête à tête_ moments."  
"Same here, and you know, if you don't mind me being forward, a man like you will not have any trouble finding a date when you feel ready for it."

Mycroft gave Greg a condescending smile, with disbelief as a subtle expression on his face, which someone who didn't know him as well as the DI did would have probably missed completely. And that was something Lestrade couldn't let go by so easily.

"Come on, don't give me that. You are a very handsome man, and you exude confidence, even when you say social situations for you have a hidden agenda. When you are ready, I'm sure you can find someone lovely."  
"For a mere dalliance perhaps, but I think I'm getting too old for the hassle of one-night stands or small indiscretions. Perhaps I was used to having a meaningful relationship, something serious, which I took for granted many times."  
"Oi! Remember I'm older than you, and I'm not talking about a bit of fun either, not that there is something wrong with that, I'm not joking, someone will be fortunate to have you as a partner or something meaningful when you are ready again."  
"I'm sorry if I don't wait patiently by the door then, I find myself as a sceptic on this particular subject."  
"Well, more comfortable for me to find you when you are finally ready for that date."

_Shit, shit, shit, did I say that out loud? Why does my mouth hate me so? Now he is not only going to give me the slip, but he will also probably have me executed or thrown into a dank cell in the middle of nowhere. Wait. That is not the face of an offended man._

Mycroft was, no he couldn't. He couldn't be smiling at him like that.

"If that is the prospect I have ahead of me, I confess that I now understand how it can eventually get better."

Lestrade, with newfound confidence and his bright smile which somehow became wider when his lunch companion mirrored it, thought that well, in for a penny, it was time to go for the pound.

"Then Mycroft, let's have a raincheck on that date, as soon as you feel like it."  
"Something to look forward to, then."  
"Now, you have to tell me, why was Sherlock calling your brother Merlin? Is he, like a wizard with fabrics?"

* * *

Sherlock was confident no one could see him in his current vantage point, well, no one but Anthea, but since she was in on the plan her snooping didn't hurt the cause. His phone started vibrating in his coat, and he moved closer to the wall to answer it inconspicuously.

"What then? D'it work?"  
"Yes, thank you for your assistance Gary, it proved invaluable in securing our target. And again, my apologies on the eye."  
"Nah. Worth it. Your brother, well, he reminds me of someone I cared about. Wish that one could have been happier."  
"Indeed. You have a favour to cash if you ever require my assistance."  
"Fucking spectacular!"  
"Ugh, can't you tell him to lose the accent? It gets on my nerves."  
"Noooo, his real one is too similar, well too similar..."  
"Ah. Yes. Well, take care Eggsy."  
"Til later Sherlock, give my best to John."

Sherlock was finally satisfied. And of course, Gary didn't need to know it, but Harry would have given his blessing too. After all, all that man ever wanted was to see Mycroft happy.


End file.
